The Dark Deeds of Mordecai Heller
by ElliotTheProcrastinator
Summary: Ever wondered why Mordecai is so feared? Or why he split from the Lackadaisy in the first place? Then read on, my friend.  A work in progress, in chronological order. So no splitting from the gang yet, unfortunately. Sorry .


Uhh, Hi everyone!

This is pretty much my first completed fanfic, with some others in the works. As for this one, it's entitled "The Dark Deed**_s_**of Mordecai Heller", so depending how this is received, I'll add to the Mordecai Files, as it were. So, Lackadaisy fans around the Internet, please enjoy the first of the tales Mordecai never wanted you to read. Cats and Swingers, I present to you: The Dark Deeds of Mordecai Heller.

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The Dark Deeds of Mordecai Heller.

Mordecai Heller is something of an enigma: Well known in certain… _discrete_ circles and virtually unheard of anywhere else. Walking through the right door at the right time, or a quick word with the right people can enlighten those that are privy to such information to a world of shocking tales, dastardly even by the standards of an illegal rum-joint. However, those that do know of him, dearly wish they didn't. Mordecai was once the chief "problem-solver" of the 1920's Lackadaisy Speakeasy, alongside the often equally ruthless co-worker and mentor Viktor Vasko. The two quickly became notorious for their methods, usually involving blackmail, extortion and more frequently, efficient, violent murder*. Unfortunately, friend (or at least trusted partner) became foe. So, for the first time, in one place, are the untold tales of Mordecai Heller, including his final mission before he left the Lackadaisy "family".

(*One particular example of Mr. Heller's work would be his most recent task for Asa Sweet of the Marigold establishment, which resulted in hacking a troublemaker into chunks with a hatchet and possibly even alphabetising the pieces, when the whole "hatchet" gambit had been an initiation prank.)

Captain Elliott: Piker Extraordinaire, 28th February, 1915.

The Banks of The Big Muddy.

Mordecai Heller strode quickly along the tree-lined country path, resplendent in a full-length black coat, pressed white shirt and waistcoat, wide-brimmed fedora and a blood-red cravat. A few metres behind, his mentor and verbal sparring partner Viktor paced along, conspiring to walk as slowly as possible simply to aggravate his new protégé.  
"Will you please hurry up? We do have a deadline to meet, and I do not wish to be here any longer than we have to." Mordecai glared at the dust covering his usually spotless shoes, then up at Viktor, silently blaming him for such an apparent felony. Viktor glanced up at the tutting figure, who appeared to growing angrier for every second wasted. The hulking cat grinned in the shadow of his cap, knowing that the good Captain Elliott wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. In fact, Viktor had made sure that he would stay all day if he was told to, regardless of prior engagements.

"Ah, so young, so impatient! The Captain vill be able to allow small delay. In fact, I'm sure of it." Viktor smiled, baring his teeth. "And I am also sure that Atlas said ve vere not to be drawing attention to ourselves. Dressing in your Sunday best out here in dirt country vas not vat he had in mind."

"This," Mordecai snarled, pulling forward on his lapels, "is a bespoke suit straight from the finest tailor in St. Louis. And _Mr. May _and myself are a lot alike. We both have a profound respect for order, punctuality and we both have little tolerance for insolence. So, would you kindly walk faster?" Mordecai sighed and plucked the pince-nez glasses from his face and rubbed the bridge of his nose, completely oblivious to the towering figure in a sack-cloth jumper that had quickly closed the gap between them and had began leering at him. Viktor's hand shot out and clamped the thin teen by the shoulder.

"You should be careful vat you say, boy. No people out here, something could happen. Something _nasty_. You speak of insolence, ven you are no better. You vould do vell to know your place. And as for suits, St. Louis is vell known for cheap booze, fighting, vhatever. But suits? No. Now, ve really should be going, hmm?" Viktor growled, before strolling forward into a group of large oak trees. Mordecai tilted his head back, grunting in exasperation. After several deep breaths, he knew that he had to win Viktor over, or his ceaseless mocking would continue. To become Viktor's equal; he had to do something big. Something important. He turned on the heel of his shoe and ran towards the trees, hoping to catch the glaring giant before he lost himself in the trees that hid Elliott's secret harbour.

After several wrong turnings and having to swallow his pride several times in calling out to Viktor, Mordecai finally found him talking in hushed tones with a diminutive, shaky man whom he presumed was Captain Elliott, who was preoccupied with glancing down the length of the river, clearly wishing he could spring aboard his boat and sail away, to be free from the giant that towered over him. Mentally and physically. He could barely make out what was being said, but presumed it was along the lines of "Right, vere is de good vine?" "Oh, ri-right here, Mr. Viktor sir. I'll just help you to bring it up, if that's all right with you, I mean." "Just get it done." Mordecai smiled slightly at the exaggerated accent his mind had unconsciously given Viktor, knowing that listening to him speak without hearing it would now be almost impossible.

"Well Mr. Vasko, has Captain Elliott agreed to the terms? Do we have a deal?"

"Please, boy, do not interrupt. I am about to broker new deal betveen the good Captain and I. That is correct, is it not, Captain?"

"Y- yes, Mr. Vasko- I mean, Sir, of course. Yes, Sir, we do have a deal. Now, can we please move the juice?" Elliott wrung his hand, eyes darting from side to side, them up at Viktor for the briefest of seconds. "It's just, I- I have… an appointment? Yes, an appointment. Now, sha- shall we?" Mordecai shook his head with contempt and groaned inwardly. Why exactly were we dealing with one so timid? He thought. Negotiations are about strength of will. Surely this brittle, spineless creature wouldn't be able to land a deal for any more than a regular shipment of barrels of Mississippi silt. Despite this, Elliott had seemingly brought in a bearable order for many years.

Still, Mordecai was on edge. There was something about the Captain, more than the usual jitters accompanied by frequent visits with Viktor. That, combined with something he couldn't put his finger on, made him suspicious. His eyes narrowed. He was hiding something.

Eyes still narrowed, he pushed past a stunned Viktor and seized the diminutive cat by the collar, shoving him roughly against the wall of the short barge.

"Right. I don't know the slightest about you apart from what you've made painfully obvious, and all you need to know is that I won't abide liars. So, it would be in your very best interest to tell me what you haven't told my partner." He briefly let go to gesture in Viktor's direction, who was still stood silently on the banks. Thudding the shivering Captain against the wall to regain his concentration, he looked him straight in the eye.

"Well?" Viktor, seemingly broken of his paralytic spell, stepped forward onto the barge, feeling it rock under his weight. He pulled slightly on the teen's arm, muttering into his ear.

"You do not vant to make enemies of such a _valued customer_, boy. Come, let him go and I am sure Elliott vill say no more, hmm?" Viktor's voice grew louder as he directed his question to the terrified feline. He slowly nodded, albeit so shakily he could have merely been trembling more violently for a second. Mordecai's eyes widened for a second, before relaxing his grip and stepping back, leaning on the side of the craft.

"Now then. Captain, vould you min-" Viktor only managed half of his request, before leaping back as the smartly-dressed youth leapt forward with a snarl on his lips, with an empty bottle of cheap gin gripped in one paw.

In a space of about three seconds, he had pushed Viktor to one side, pinned the cowering wreck to the wall once more and smashed the bottle on the crate beside him with a sharp crack. Jamming the points of the broken bottle under Elliott's chin, he growled at him again, utterly faithful in his instincts.

"Where is it? Well? I will not ask you again." Mordecai, his face showing no emotion, tilted the sailor's chin upwards, before quickly slashing the bottle's shattered edge against his cheek. Shocked by the use of violence, with the unspoken promise of more, Captain Elliott crumbled, sinking to the floor, weeping.

"O-O.K, O.K, please, ju-just don't hurt me. For God's sake, I have a- a family to support." He dragged a filthy sleeve under his nose, and pulled a bottle of dusty, rather expensive looking brandy from his jacket's inner pocket. Pulling the stopper, he took several deep drinks, draining the bottle before staring into the eyes glaring at him from both Mordecai and Viktor, who was slowly catching onto the motives behind his new ward's actions.

Wiping the brandy from his mouth and dabbing at his wounded cheek with his finger, he sat up slightly and waved his hand at a pile of crates towards the front of the ship. Emboldened by the alcohol in his system, for once he managed to speak without his voice shaking.

"Over therrre." He slurred. "In the prow. Underrrneath the crates…" He drifted off momentarily, looking the very image of a weak drinker in his ragged clothes and marinating the smell of booze, before a sharp slap to his injured cheek brought him back into consciousness.

"There's a hatch, wid a lock… key's on a hook in the cabin. Can I sleep now?" He muttered drunkenly, his eyelids drooping. Mordecai stepped over the half-asleep bell bottom and marched calmly over along the pier.

Viktor stepped back, staring amazed at the drunken cat, and then over to the well-dressed feline, barely more than a child, who had managed to figure out in one meeting that which he had failed to work out in more than fifteen years. Well, he had to give the Captain points for managing to keep up the charade. Normally, those who lied to Viktor Vasko ended up crippled or utterly silent, more so if they embarrassed him in front of his new partner.

"A little of your time in finding this key would be appreciated, Mr. Vasko," the cat called from the bank. "as I do not think this door will yield quite so easily as our friend the Captain." Viktor glanced at Elliott as Mordecai mentioned him, before stepping back onto the pier to join him.

"How… how exactly did you know?" I… have had the wrong idea about you… Mordecai, is it?"  
"Yes, Mordecai Heller. Although Mordecai will be fine. As for your good friend the Captain, there were two distinct things." He rattled to door handle, before stepping back to let Viktor inspect it. As he bent down to inspect the lock, Mordecai continued. "Firstly, he seemed much more frightened than others I have known. You tend to scare people, but not to the point that they cannot physically look at you. There had to be something making him nervous. Furthermore, there was a distinct smell in the air. The scent of real alcohol, instead of the watered-down swill you usually pick up." Part-way through his sentence, Viktor stood, took a step backwards and kicked hard, his boot splintering the lock from the door. Ducking under the low doorframe, he reached past the stacked crates and loose pieces of timber to a slim key hanging from a rusted hook.

"Come, Mordecai, we are running late. Ve should get going." Mordecai nodded, before taking the key and striding over to the boat, as Viktor tried to rearrange the door to mask the damage. He shoved the surprisingly light barrels aside, throwing the rope holding them together on top of the unconscious Captain. Clicking open the lock, he threw open the hatch and peered in. A grim smile of satisfaction spread across his mouth, before calling back to Viktor.

"It would seem Captain Elliott wasn't lying, Mr. Vasko. Would you mind?" He enquired, pointing an open palm at the trap door.

"Give me one minute, Mordecai. No-von can know vat happened here." As he said this, he gave up covering the doorway and simply leaned the broken door beside it.

Dusting his hands, he jogged over, easily throwing a barrel onto each shoulder and making his way back to the road they had discretely parked the truck on.

Nearly all of the premium brandy, whiskey and gin were loaded, with only a single barrel left when Mordecai held up a hand to Viktor, silently telling him that he could manage this one by himself. Viktor shrugged, turning back to the trees and walking back up towards the track.

Mordecai watched him walk away; making sure that he was out of sight before turning to the Captain. His face completely blank, he picked up the length of rope he had thrown over there earlier, before flipping the now murmuring drunk onto his back, binding his hands behind him. He continued, tying his feet to his ankles. Mordecai was about to gag his mouth with some spare rope before he woke up, spluttering and coughing.

"Wh-what are you doing? Where's Vi-"

"Be quiet. You have kept the truth from Mr. Vasko, from me, from anyone, for the last time. Now stay still." Mordecai wrapped the cord twice between Elliott's teeth, checking the knots as he hoisted him upwards. He shoved him backwards, leaving him no choice but to hop backwards, presumably regretting the brandy, before finally sitting against the far side of the barge.

"Mmm-mhmm mhmh!" Mordecai crouched, picking up the shattered bottle, still covered in tiny drops of blood on the tips.

"I am afraid your family will have to find some other means of supporting yourself. But, whoever you were reserving that liquor for, they have to understand exactly who is in charge here. I am afraid, you are that message. Goodbye, Captain Elliott." Mordecai, still devoid of any emotion, stepped forward and buried the broken bottle into the petrified sailor's stomach. Leaving the bottle stuck in his midriff, he heaved the slowly dying Captain into the river. He wondered about giving a mock salute as he stared at the convulsing figure sinking into the depths, quickly dismissing it as offensive and pointless. Not his style at all. He waited for a minute or two before leaving the boat and making his way back up the path to the idling truck.

"Vat vas taking so long?" Mordecai Heller climbed into the passenger seat, eyes locked onto the road ahead.

"Oh, nothing, just something I had to take care of. Although, we may have to find a new chain of supply. Captain Elliott has for some reason decided to retire." The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, still somewhat unnerved by his apparent lack of guilt, or anything at all, really.

Viktor looked at him and raised an eyebrow as he muttered something about a "friend" of his Defiance, Missouri. Grunting, he shifted the truck into drive and pulled out onto the main track, leaving the secret pier, Elliott's barge and the bloodied corpse (now steadily drifting downstream), to retreat into the distance.


End file.
